Just Another Day
by Sylph Dancer
Summary: The Avengers are at a debriefing when Loki storms into the room. Everything goes downhill from there. But then, things hadn't been going particularly well beforehand, either. Really, things like exploding poptarts, magical alien druglords, and Director Fury in a tutu mean just another day for the Avengers. A collection of humorous tales with many pairings for the sake of crack.
1. Loki's Stolen Hair Ointment

_In which Loki gets molested, phones are broken, faces are sprayed, and all hell breaks loose._

_All rights go to Marvel and DC Comics. The cover image belongs to Diavolo Qqta on Flickr._

_Read and Review!_

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******Loki's Stolen Hair Ointment  
(Also Known As, "Why Fury Was Wearing A Tutu")**  


The Avengers were at a debriefing when Loki stormed into the room.

It was ironic, they later noted, that when they were notified that Loki had returned to Earth, probably to wreak havoc, would appear literally in front of them during debriefing at SHIELD Base. They had not even been inside the conference room for five whole minutes, which meant that none of them knew why Loki was back, what his newest plans for taking over Earth were, or where he happened to be.

All of that was made perfectly clear, however, the second he barged into the room.

"THOR!" He bellowed, slamming his magic spear on the ground. His eyes were furious. "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY OINTMENT?!"

He stopped when he saw the Avengers, unable to speak at the scene before him.

For whatever odd reason, the good captain Steve Rogers was dressed in a French maid costume, his entire face (and his ears) bright red, trying to hold down his skirt. Tony Stark was frozen in the act of trying to pull up said skirt. Agent Natasha Romanoff, dressed as a teenage hipster, had her gun out and was aiming it at Thor, who was clutching hipster glasses to his chest and was almost entirely naked except for his Hulk boxers. Bruce Banner was in an extremely tight bikini and had clearly been trying to save Captain America from Iron Man, and Agent Clint Barton was crouched on the ground wearing a ninja costume with an enormous chocolate bar in his mouth. Agent Phil Coulson held a taser pointed at Tony and wore only a bathrobe, and Fury wore a tutu.

(It should be noted that the Avengers were not in uniform.)

"… Err…" Loki blinked. "I do believe I have interrupted at a very bad time. Do excuse me." And he turned to leave.

In a flash, the Avengers had locked the door and pinned Loki to the ground.

"Loki!" Thor bellowed, sitting on his brother's chest with his face an inch from his adopted brother's. "What madness have you come to cause?!"

"Aieef wiw choot chyuu inth da eye!" Agent Barton growled, his mouth still holding the chocolate bar.

Agent Romanoff had her gun pointed right between Loki's eyeballs. "What are you doing here?" She demanded.

Loki squirmed, choking. "Get—off—me!" He gasped.

Bruce snorted. "Fat chance. What are you doing here at headquarters?"

"I—was merely—I was merely coming here—to have words—with my brother!" Loki struggled to speak. "He stole—my—hair treatment!"

Thor blinked. Then his eyes narrowed. "Of course I stole your hair treatment! You ate my pop tarts!"

Loki made a disgusted sound. "Those cheap imitation breakfast pastries? Why would I eat those?"

"Oh, yeah." Tony scratched his head sheepishly. "I forgot to tell you, Thor. I ate your pop tarts."

Thor blinked, getting off his brother. "You… ate my pop tarts?" His bottom lip began to quiver. "But, man of iron, they were of the chocolate fudge! That is my favorite kind!"

"Calm down, big guy." Tony lifted his hands in a defensive pose. "I can get you more."

Thor grumbled, hunching over. "I suppose."

"That's it?!" Loki hissed. To the Avengers' surprise, he wiggled his way right out from beneath them. "You steal my ointment based on your deluded accusations and do not apologize?"

Thor blinked. "Ah. I'm sorry, brother," He said, stepping forward. "I did not mean to—"

"You didn't mean to?!" Loki threw his hands up in the air. "Thor, you stole it _weeks_ ago! You know that ointment is _rare_ and only appears in the market _every other month_! My hair has been greasy and grungy and _absolutely filthy for weeks_!"

"Well, you should not be here on Midgard!" Thor said angrily. "You should be home on Asgard!"

Loki gave a high-pitched laugh. "Well, I would be, except you were here, and Lady Sif admitted to me that you took it, so I just waited, but you did not return last week as you were supposed to! I had to beg the All Father to let me find you!"

"The All Father would not let you come here alone," Thor retorted.

"He would do so if it were necessary in bringing you back home," Loki scoffed. "You do realize that he sent me here along with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three to find you? I would assume they are still fighting their way through to here. But that is not the point! I WANT MY HAIR OINTMENT!"

"They're what?" Coulson flipped open his phone and immediately began calling about ten people at a time. "Hello? Agent Hill?" Angry shouting from the other end. "Ah. I understand we're under Code 413 Lock Down?" More shouting. "Sector Six? I see." He hit a button on his phone. "Landing Site 32? Understood. Avengers, suit up, you're needed at Landing Site—"

In the background, the sound of shouting could be heard. Agent Hill's irritated voice was cut off abruptly.

"HELLO?! HELLO?! THOR! CAN—YOU—HEAR—ME?!"

"Volstagg!" Thor snatched the phone from Coulson. "Volstagg, is that you?"

"THOR! YOU'RE ALIVE! WE'RE HERE TO RESCUE YOU! HAS—LOKI—FOUND—YOU—YET?!"

"Yes—yes, I'm fine, Volstagg!" Thor shouted. "Volstagg, I need my brethren to stop fighting!" He said urgently.

"WHAT?! THOR, I CANNOT HEAR YOU!"

"STOP FIGHTING! I AM UNHARMED!" Thor yelled.

"THO—"

There was a nasty crunching sound, and the call ended. It seemed either Volstagg had either found himself suddenly occupied, or he had broken the phone.

Coulson plucked his phone from Thor's grip. "What are you all standing here for? Go, suit up!"

That seemed to shake them from their stunned positions. All of them except Loki had left. The Trickster watched them go, still fuming, and then moved to follow.

"Ah-ah-ah." Coulson snapped his fingers, and the door shut.

Loki frowned. "What…?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to remain here, Mr. Laufeyson. When this business is over, we'll need you and the rest of the Asgardians to answer some questions," Coulson said through the glass. "And I wouldn't bother breaking out, either. This glass—" He knocked on it. "Same as the first time we had you in the Helicarrier. Good old times, right?"

Loki hurtled forward and smashed against the glass, roaring in fury. Coulson calmly opened the door, pulled a bottle out of his bathrobe pocket, and sprayed him with it.

"Ackpth!" Loki stumbled back, and Coulson closed the door.

"No," Coulson scolded. "Bad."

And he turned and left, leaving a wet Loki grumbling behind him.

* * *

Loki sat at the conference room table moping, slowly shredding the debriefing files and tossing them into the air, where they floated, somewhat forlorn. He muttered under his breath, tearing with quite some violence, as the pieces of paper slowly formed different images; Steve in his maid outfit, Bruce in his bikini, and Thor in his Hulk boxers.

The paper slid straight across his skin, and Loki gasped in pain. Blood welled at his fingertip, and he glowered at the paper, swiping the rest of the papers across the floor.

The door slid open behind him. The rest of the Avengers as well as Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, Director Nick Fury, Coulson and Agent Maria Hill all entered.

"Hiding from the fight, Loki?" Fandral quirked an eyebrow and smirked at Loki's glowering face, chuckling when he stuck his tongue out at him like a child.

Thor turned to Loki. "You are grounded," He declared. "For two weeks."

Loki stared at him, indignant. "What—? No, I am not! You—_you're_ grounded for two weeks!"

Thor raised an eyebrow. "Three weeks."

"Why?!" Loki yelped, a slight whine to his voice. "I have done _nothing_!"

"Four weeks."

Loki growled. "Fine. You may say whatever you like; but know this, brother, but you have no control over me. I'm only doing it for a week for my own whimsy."

"_That_ just grounded you for four weeks," Thor said, crossing his arms.

Loki spluttered. "I—I—will none of you come to my aid? Hogun, you were present when I spoke with the All Father, I was allowed to aid you!"

Hogun sighed. "It's true," He said reluctantly. "Odin did say he could."

"Hm." Thor shrugged. "You're still grounded for yelling at me."

"You stole my hair ointment!"

"His hair has been fairly disgusting for the past month," Sif added helpfully.

"See!"

"Still grounded."

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Tony said under his breath.

"Be quiet, Stark," Loki growled, his fists clenching.

"All right, that's enough," Fury said testily. "Now, you all have some explaining to do. First, when you all show up for debriefing, Steve's wearing a French maid outfit, Tony's trying to molest him, Thor's in Hulk Boxers and nothing else, and Bruce is in a bikini. Suddenly Crazy-Ass-Motherfucker Loki feels the need to bust in with the rest of the jolly aliens. Steve… why don't you go first?"

Steve, no longer wearing the maid outfit, cleared his throat, his cheeks still somewhat pink. "Er—well, sir, as you know, SHIELD agents came to pick Tony and I up in the same car, since, you know, we live together now and all…"

Fury put his head in his hands. "Get to the point."

Steve flushed a deeper pink. "And Tony… kind of, er, gave me something to drink… and I passed out… and the next thing I knew, I was in the car wearing a maid outfit."

"…" Fury sighed. "All right. Bruce?"

"Tony spiked my water with the same stuff and stuck me in a bikini," Bruce mumbled.

Fury groaned. "Stark, what the fuck is your problem?... Never mind, don't answer that." Tony shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. "Thor?"

"I wore these to show my team pride," Thor said proudly. "I also have discovered Iron Man boxers, and Captain America boxers, and I plan on wearing them around the cities as I have done for the past few days in these!" Lady Sif and the Warriors Three nodded their approval.

Fury blinked, and then turned to Coulson. "The spray bottle, please." Coulson handed Fury the spray bottle, and Fury took it, spraying Thor in the face.

"Ackpth!"

"No." Fury said firmly. "Bad."

"Wait, but what about Mr. and Mrs. Smith here?" Tony demanded.

Natasha shrugged. "We were on a mission."

"Involving what?!"

"That's classified information, Tony," Natasha said calmly.

"And we stopped on the way back for food," Clint added. "I wanted chocolate."

Fury ground his teeth together, and then turned to the rest. "What about you four? Explanations?"

Sif shrugged. "Thor's been gone for a while, and he was supposed to come back last week. Heimdall couldn't see Thor, so we decided to take a look."

"And we found him," Volstagg said proudly.

Fandral nodded. "Apologies for destroying part of your base," He said, smiling in an apologetic way. "We were under the impression Thor was in danger."

"Right. Well, thanks anyways, but I'm afraid you people are all going to have to stay until we can work things out—"

"Well, why was Coulson in a bath towel and you in a tutu?" Tony demanded.

Fury gave him a death glare. "I was at my daughter's dance recital playing a sugar plum fairy stand-in."

Tony frowned. "You don't have a daughter. Do you? Are you married? Are you gay? Why is none of this in the SHIELD files I hacked into?!"

Fury rolled his eyes, clearly not deigning to answer Tony's prying questions. "Agent Coulson here was simply called at a bad time and we had no spare clothes on hand, as you already know. Now—"

There was a loud bang, and all of them whirled around. Spider-Man, a.k.a. Peter Parker, was crouched by the window. He pulled off his mask and was shouting something unintelligible, banging on the glass with his fist.

"Peter?" Steve and Tony hurried over to the window, yanking it open.

"How the hell did he get up here?" Fury looked furious.

Natasha shrugged. "Boy's got skills, I'm telling you." Clint nodded.

"I could have escaped through the windows this whole time?!" Loki looked mortified. Volstagg patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

"Hey, Dad! Hey, Pops!" Peter grinned sheepishly at Steve and Tony as he clambered into the room. "So… I know this is probably a bad time, but… can I have twenty bucks?"

Steve sighed. "Peter, what are you doing here? I thought you were out with Wade."

"Er… I was… but then it turned out neither of us had enough money for both of us to get into the amusement park… so…" Peter laughed. "Sorry about that." His eyes focused on the rest of the room, and he blinked. "Ah… Maybe I'll just ask someone else."

"SWEEEEEETUUUUUMMMMSSSS!" Without warning, another person flipped into the room.

With that, there was chaos.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE DRIVING ME UP A WALL!" Fury bellowed.

"I'll save you, Stevie-pie!" Tony declared, grabbing Steve around the waist and preparing to shoot through the ceiling.

"Tony! Tony, don't—!"

Too late.

"ARGH!" Loki shouted in pain as he flung up his still-bleeding hand with the enormous paper cut to shield himself from the sudden rubble.

"Loki, are you harmed?" Thor was alarmed.

"No—Thor, it's fine, I—"

"My baby brother is hurt!" Thor smashed into Loki, knocking them both to the ground. "I will kiss your wound to make it all better!"

"Thor?!"

"Where does it hurt? Does it not hurt there? Or there? Or there? ...Are you heartsick? I'm so sorry, brother! Loki, I love you!" Thor grabbed his brother's face and kissed him. Loki's eyes were wide; then they fluttered, and he slid his arms around Thor's neck, kissing him back.

Sif groaned. "Not again. Help me, friends!" With the Warriors Three, they combined their efforts in trying to free Loki from his brother. "Thor—stop seducing—your brother! We're in—the—middle of a—crisis!"

"Nat, let's escape!" Clint shouted from an open vent, beckoning her inside. She groaned in exasperation, stalked over, and pulled him out of the vent and onto the floor.

"Ow ow ow ow! Nat, come on! Not cool! Owww!"

"Everyone, please, let's remain calm!" Bruce yelled, waving his arms wildly and trying to diffuse the situation.

Wade Wilson, a.k.a. Deadpool, stood at the window with a smile frozen on his face and blinking. "… Sweetums!" He spotted Peter. "Babe, what's going on?"

Peter shrugged. "The usual, just with more people." He sighed. "Why don't we help calm things down? Then let's go rescue Pops from Dad. We still need those twenty bucks."

"Right." Wade grinned and kissed Peter on the cheek. "Now, what can I do…?" He mused. "It's gotta be something good… for the readers, you know…" He started, then pulled something out of his pocket and strode over to a still ranting Fury. He handed him the object. Fury took one glance at it, and then nodded his thanks. Peter and Wade plugged their ears and Fury blew the storm whistle.

"_SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_!"

Immediately everyone winced and fell to their knees, clutching at their ears. There was deafening silence, and then Fury began shouting. "All right, listen up, everyone! You, Asgardians, three warriors or whatever you're called, you go with Agent Coulson here! Avengers…_just_…_stay_…_here_."

Needless to say, after Steve and Tony had been recalled back, Thor had been pried off of a very dazed Loki, and Peter and Wade had gotten their twenty dollars and left, there was much yelling. For several hours.

And of course, afterwards, Tony (sort of) apologized to his husband and to Bruce for drugging them and sticking them in absurd outfits, Thor and Loki had left to go home with the other Asgardians (while holding hands), Clint and Natasha went to home together to watch a nice movie (Batman Begins), Peter and Wade enjoyed themselves at the amusement park, and Coulson and Fury finally got some rest.

But then, that was really just another day for the Avengers.

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**Hey, you. Yeah, you. See that box right beneath me? Yeah, that thing. That's the review box. The review box misses you a lot. Why don't you add a review? Go on! Give it some love!**


	2. Tony's Drunken Dress-Up Party

_Or, Tony drugs people, Peter gets groped, and it is discovered why coconut brassieres are now a source of embarrassment._

___All rights go to Marvel_.

_Read and Review!_

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******Tony's Drunken Dress-Up Party **  
**(Or, "Why You Never Let Tony Near Your Drink")**

Steve loved his closest friend Tony. Sure, Tony, was snarky and sarcastic. The man was arrogant, bad-mannered, the worst coffee addict he had ever met, and flirty. But Tony was also good to Steve; he had been the one to reintegrate Steve back into the world after being out of it for ninety years. When Steve had nightmares, no matter how often during the night, Tony was always there to calm him down, regale him with another absurd story. He listened when Steve needed to talk. When the Avengers had adopted Peter, he'd been a miraculously competent father figure (if he did spoil Peter; but then, so did the rest of the Avengers). And even if he was horrible with expressing his emotions, Steve found it easy enough to understand what Tony meant when he couldn't find the means to show Steve how he really felt.

Of course, that didn't mean Tony didn't have certain faults. Steve often found himself yelling at his best friend after another bout with some super villain and another idiotic, life-threatening move he didn't actually have to make. Tony had a habit of disappearing down in his lab for hours, which was surely bad for his health, and often when trying to hide something, he avoided Steve like the plague and refused to say a word to him, which usually ended up with a long-winded argument. Other mannerisms Tony couldn't help, as he was born in a silver spoon in his mouth, but Steve still found it a bit annoying (although admittedly endearing) when Tony couldn't do simple things himself, like tying his suit ties correctly or do his own laundry.

The biggest thing that annoyed Steve, however, were the pranks Tony pulled. Whenever he felt things were particularly quiet, or he was simply feeling bored, Steve would find himself on the receiving end of either hundreds of small, annoying pranks, infuriating, elaborate pranks, or both. And Tony got bored _a lot_.

That was how Steve, after discovering an enormous tube of toothpaste in the trash and a single frosting tip from Steve's baking collection lying forgotten on the ground, Steve couldn't help but be a bit wary around Tony.

At that current moment, Steve found himself holed up in their shared bedroom, hunched down under the sheets as he drew: what his old room looked like, the shape of Peggy's nose when it crinkled, the exact curve of Bucky's lips when he smiled, Howard's devilish eyes, his old form… Newer images, of Bucky's sleek, new prosthetic arm, Peter fixing his web shooters, Natasha's face when she had an actually innocent smile spread on it, Clint at target practice, a certain Asgardian with his face hidden behind a large pop-tart box, Bruce with his eyes turned skyward.

And Tony. Lots and lots of Tony. There were images of Tony fumbling with his tie, Pepper using crockery to beat Tony senseless, and Steve joining in on such activities. Tony with the arc reactor lighting up bright blue, Tony asleep in the lab with papers stuck to his face. Tony Tony Tony.

"Oh, STEEEEEVE!"

Steve let out an emasculating scream as he jumped a foot off the bed, the sheets sent flying; his art supplies scattered everywhere. He put a hand on his heart, glaring at Tony, who was curled up on the ground and laughing hysterically.

"Can't—breathe!" He choked out.

Steve glowered at him. "Then maybe you shouldn't have snuck up on me."

"You—you said, 'kyaa'!" Tony rolled over to his other side, still shaking with laughter.

"It's not funny!" Steve hunched over, feeling his face gradually begin to overheat.

Tony managed to calm down enough to drape an arm over Steve's shoulder, a wide grin still plastered over his face. "Aww, I thought it was cute. Fucking hilarious, yeah, but cute. JARVIS, did you get that?"

"I did indeed, sir," The electronic voice said politely.

"Make sure to send that to everyone. Oh, they're going to die of laughter!" Tony grabbed Steve's face and planted a big, wet, sloppy kiss on his lips.

"Grrhmmfph," Steve grumbled.

Tony grinned. "Anyways, the real reason I spooked you was because Bruce and Bucky are at the door for lunch."

"Really?" Steve said suspiciously. "Or is this some elaborate prank?"

Steve swallowed hard at a malevolent glint in Tony's eye. "Of course not, sweetie, why on earth would you think that?"

"Oh, no reason." He forced a smile. "That's good, I'll go let them in!" He hopped up from his spot and exited the room. His jaw dropped, and Tony slammed the door shut behind him, laughing again.

Every single inch of the floor was covered in Styrofoam cups filled with water. All of Tony's droids were nearby; it appeared they had assisted the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist with the evil deed.

"What…? Tony!" Steve shouted. "Tony, what the heck?!"

Peter poked his head out of his room down the hall. "Hey. Pops. What's up? … DAD!"

The doorbell sounded over the intercom. Bucky and Bruce really were here. "Steeevie-piiieee!" Tony sang through their bedroom door, apparently unwilling to come outside of the room. "What's taking you so long to get the door for our guests?"

"If I'm taking too long, why didn't you do it?" Steve retorted.

No reply. Then, "Because I loooove yooouuu!"

"Oh, dear God," He grumbled under his breath.

Using great care and caution, Steve leaned over as far as he could and plucked a few cups in his hands, gulping them down and crushing them, tossing them away. As carefully as he could, he stepped into the new space, balancing himself, and repeated the gesture. It was painfully slow, but with a grumbling Peter's help, they had almost made it to the door.

Without warning, Tony came yelling and screaming up behind them. Before they could brace themselves, he flung himself on top of them, and they toppled over onto the cups, which crushed and spilled water everywhere. They were completely drenched.

"DAD!" Peter shouted.

"TONY!"

Tony leapt up and rushed away, laughing maniacally. The doorbell rang again, and Steve, cursing under his breath, hurried to answer it.

"Why, hello, Steve! I wasn't under the impression you lived here," Bucky teased, clapping him on the shoulder as he entered.

"Hey, Uncle Bruce, Uncle Bucky," Peter attempted to fling some of the water off his skin.

"Hilarious, Barnes," He grumbled, but couldn't help but smile. "Hello, Bruce."

"Hello, Steve," Bruce chuckled. "Just get out of the shower?" He peeked around his shoulder. "… And got some new carpeting?"

"Ahh." Bucky nodded knowingly. "Is it Tony's time of the month?"

"You can say that again," Peter grumbled. "Nice to see you guys. I'm outta here." And with that, he left.

"Don't stay out too late," Steve called out after him. Peter responded with a noncommittal grunt.

"Heellloooo!" Tony popped up behind Steve, scaring all three of them. Let's all come inside!"

"... Tony, what are you wearing?" Steve said in shock.

The man grinned, brushing a violent fuchsia cape over his shoulder. He appeared to have changed into a similar costume to Thor and Loki's, with furfuraceous bronze mail, a fuchsia-colored leather jerkin and a sturdy look, yet sleek and form-fitting. "Thor lent it to me. He said it used to belong to one of his ex-boyfriends before he got eaten by a herd of bilgesnipe."

"…" Bruce blinked. "Never mind, I don't really want to know."

"Tony, we're going to lunch, take that stupid thing off," Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You look absolutely ridiculous."

"Hrm." Tony brushed lint off his shoulder. "I dunno, I think I like this look. I feel kind of pretty in it. No? Well, maybe it's not quite my style. Brucie-babe, wanna try it on?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll pass up on that offer."

"Not even you, Bucky?" Tony tried to give him puppy-dog eyes.

Bucky chuckled. "Pink isn't really my color. So, are we going out to eat?"

"Yes." Tony flung his cape over his shoulder. "But first we're having a drink."

"… Why?"

Tony shrugged. "Our floor is completely covered in Styrofoam cups filled with water. We have to get rid of at least some of them so there's less mess to clean up."

"You're an idiot," Steve said matter-of-factly.

Tony grinned. "Oooh, did I just hear Captain America insult someone? Oh, how scandalous!"

"Let's just get this over with. I'm hungry." Bucky stooped down and snatched a cup, gulping it down, crumpling it in his hand, and tossing it away, reaching for another.

"That's the spirit!" Tony said brightly, and grabbed a cup. Bruce met Steve's annoyed gaze, shrugged, and picked up a cup. Steve ran a hand through his hair, then joined in.

Perhaps if he hadn't been so ticked off with his husband, he would have noticed that Tony did not drink from the cup, nor did he ever pick up another.

* * *

Half an hour later inside the penthouse of Stark Tower, three intoxicated men were stumbling around like idiots while Tony watched with his phone recording them.

"AN' THEN I SHOV…ED HIM UP AGAINSSSS THE WALLLL AN' PLAYED T—TONNNNSILLLLL HOCK—HOCK—HICKEY WITH 'IM!" Steve bellowed, slamming his hand down on the kitchen counter so hard he cracked it.

Bucky giggled, hanging onto Steve's shoulder. "You're sooooo funny!" He slurred. "Hey, hey, 'member tha' timmmme… 'member whennn you 'nnnn I…" He whispered something clumsily in Steve's ear and fell back laughing.

Steve roared with laughter. "GODDD...I WASSSSS SO SMALLIN' YOUUUU… YOU HAD… I THUNKED YOU HADDED A BIG DI—"

Tony was collapsed on the floor, rolling around and laughing as the two ex-boyfriends bragging about their sexual adventures with each other.

"I WUZZZ… DRESS…ED AZZZA MAID," Steve fumbled around with his shirt, his fingers fumbling as he tried to unbutton it. "C—CALL—CALLED MEEEEE CYUTTE."

Tony stopped laughing and sprinted out the door. Less than a whole minute later, he returned, dashing towards the three intoxicated men, his arms filled with a large assortment of odd costumes, including maid outfits, anime cosplay, cocktail dresses, etc.

(It should be a source of wonder as to why he had these costumes on hand.)

He grabbed Steve and began ripping off his clothes, stuffing the bemused and drunken super-soldier into a French maid costume.

"Sooooo hoooott!" Bucky pranced over unsteadily. "I wan' oooonne!"

Tony tossed him a coconut bra and a grass skirt, which Bucky began trying to put on.

"Wha' 'bou' meeeeee?" Bruce whined. He dove into the pile of clothing, tossing away hoop skirts, finally pulling a tiny string bikini out of the pile, ripping off all of his clothes with surprising strength, and stuffing himself into the bikini.

"I'm sooooo hooooott!" He squealed, throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders.

"BAYBEEEE...!" Steve grabbed Bruce's face and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his lips.

Tony was laughing so hard he didn't even hear the ding of the elevator. Agent Phil Coulson stepped out of said elevator, his expression sour. Unusually, his preferred clothing choice of pressed-suit-and-tie seemed to have been unavailable to him at the current time, as he was wearing nothing more than a fluffy pink bath towel around his waist and bunny slippers.

"Steve, Tony, you're urgently needed at S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, we need to leave now—" He stopped, taking in the scene, his eyes darting between Steve and Bruce (still making out), Tony (still laughing), and Bucky (bemoaning the fact that 'his boobs were gone').

"Tony, what the hell?"

All of them froze, turning towards the bemused and slightly angry Coulson, whose emotions were rapidly approaching furious.

"PHIIIIILLLLL!" Without warning, Steve dashed towards said agent, and before anyone could stop him, he grabbed Phil's face and proceeded to molest him with his hands and mouth.

Bruce swayed slightly, then made a strange grunt and grabbed a very surprised Tony, doing the same to him.

Under the circumstances, things would most likely have continued as such had a very dazed Coulson not had the presence of mind to yank out his taser and tase his beloved idol.

Steve collapsed on the ground in a twitching mess, and Coulson stumbled backwards, his cheeks flaming and his expression both stunned and angry. He shot angry looks towards Tony, Bruce, and Bucky, and with easy precision, shot the rest of them, grumbling something about how it had been 'the third time I've been kissed today' and 'I swear, if it happens again, I'm going to murder them all'.

With all the supers incapacitated, Coulson managed to drag all three (with the help of Dum-E, who dragged the necessary gear along) down to the front of the building, where he tossed them into the back seat and drove away.

* * *

"Aw, c'mon, Steve, don't ignore me!"

Tony stood outside his bedroom pacing. After the confrontation at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, they had returned to Stark Tower, which was devoid of life, except for a very angry Steve hiding in their room and a mildly amused and slightly (very slightly) apologetic Tony begging Steve to let him in.

"Steve, okay, I'm sorry, well, not really, it was funny, but come on, it was just a joke!" He begged through the door.

"Tony, you got me drunk!" Came Steve's heated reply.

"But I thought you missed getting drunk! And technically, I drugged you. "

"And you got poor Bruce drunk! Coulson said I kissed him!"

"And Bruce. You kissed Bruce, too. And Bucky. Did you know that you're a whore when you're drunk?"

"Tony!"

"To be honest, babe, it was pretty damn hot when you were kissing Bruce. Actually, what do you say to dragging him into our sex life? Threesomes are cool."

"Arghh!" Something hit the door with a loud thump; Steve appeared to have thrown something at the door. "Go away!"

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Steve…"

There was silence. Tony's heart leapt as he heard tentative footsteps, and the door opened. Steve's expression was distrustful, but it softened when Tony gave him the most cheesy smile he could manage.

Their moment was ruined, of course, when Bucky burst in screaming like a girl going through puberty (still wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt) with a very angry Natasha and a very frantic Clint chasing after him.

"Heeeeelp meeeee!" Bucky bawled.

"Ah… Tony?" Steve asked quietly.

"Um. Yes?" Tony watched in shock as Bucky ran past, chucking stuffed animals at Natasha's face.

"You didn't, by any chance, happen to know what happened to Bucky after Coulson retrieved us?"

"No, I can't say that I did," Tony replied.

"Well." Steve cleared his throat. "That explains a lot."

"She's scaring meeee!" Bucky sobbed. "I just woke up, and I had no idea where I was, and then these guys came in, and now she's trying to kill me! Tony, you bastard, what did you do to me?!"

"Get back here and let me kill you!"

"HELP ME!"

"Steve, Tony, why the hell are you just standing there?!" Clint yelled. "Help me restrain them, they've both gone mad!"

And of course, Steve and Tony would have broken out of their shock had Peter not suddenly burst in, fending off a very horny Wade Wilson who was attempting to pull his pants off.

"Hey, Pops! Hey, Dad!" Peter panted. "What's up?"

"GET BACK HERE!"

"STOP IT, YOU TWO!"

"WADE, GET OFF!"

_"What the hell is going on here?!"_ Bucky wailed.

Steve shook himself. "What do you say to going to bed early?" He asked Tony, striding over to Wade, roundhouse-kicking him in the side of the face, dragging the limp body towards the elevator, and tossing him in.

"That sounds wonderful." Tony grabbed Bucky by the coconut bra at the same time that Clint threw himself forward, trying to tackle Natasha, and tugged him over to same elevator.

"Thanks," Clint panted as he pulled Natasha over to the elevator. She punched him in the face, still furious. "OWW! Nat, stop it! OWWW!"

"So, let's go to bed," Tony told Steve.

"I can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

* * *

**THIS IS A HOSTAGE CRISIS! IF YOU DON'T WRITE A REVIEW IN THAT BOX RIGHT BENEATH THESE WORDS, THAT POOR REVIEW BOX WON'T BE SAVED! QUICK!**


	3. Hulk Boxers

_The one where Thor has team pride, bear guts are tossed around in a machine, and fan girls are revealed to have terrifying powers._

___All rights go to Marvel_.

_Read and Review!_

* * *

**Hulk Boxers**  
**(And Why They Are Wondrous)**

Perhaps it was not Jane's best idea to take Thor clothes shopping at the mall.

They were together inside Jane's trailer, later afternoon heat beating down on them in waves. Jane leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, brushing fresh bead of sweat from her forehead and wiping it off unceremoniously on her work shorts. Thor was digging through the cabinets, searching for his pop-tarts.

"Jane, have you seen my fudge pop-tarts?" Thor called, a big frown present on his face.

"No, I haven't," Jane replied, sighing. "But, Thor, I brought you into my trailer so you could change."

"I will," Thor promised. "I would simply enjoy a pop-tart now before I change. Do you remember where I put the fudge ones?"

Jane looked at Thor in both exasperation and fondness. "I'm not quite sure. Either you left them on Asgard the last time you were there or misplaced them elsewhere."

"Asgard…" Thor mused. "The last time I brought my pop-tarts to Asgard, Loki stole them." He pulled a small, glittery pink bottle out of his pocket. "I stole his hair gel in retaliation, and yet he still refuses to admit his crime."

"What's that?" Jane asked curiously. "May I?" Thor handed her the bottle. "Lovely Lady Tresses Crème…?"

"His preferred choice." Thor shrugged indifferently. "It appears in the market every other month. Supposedly it helps keep his hair clean. I do believe a Jotun businessman sells it to him; I would suppose it's designed for Jotun hair."

She frowned. "Wait—are you saying you stole your brother's hair crème that isn't common… and he literally can't use some replacement hair crème?"

"I suppose not… but he stole my pop-tarts!"

"Thor…" Jane said reprovingly. "I hardly think pop-tarts, which you can get by visiting Earth, are worth a very rare and important hair crème. You do visit here whenever you want, so you can get new ones. Loki has to wait every other month for that hair crème since he's not allowed out of Asgard anymore, and he can't use any replacement."

Thor pouted. "Perhaps."

"Anyways," Jane went on, "We can get pop-tarts after you get changed. I'm sure I can scrounge up a better wardrobe for you."

"But my Jane, I thought I would not require a new wardrobe while I reside here with you," Thor said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Is my current outfit not suitable attire?"

She sighed, eyeing his outfit. (Thor was still not practiced in the art of Midgardian clothing.) "Not really," Jane admitted. "You stand out like… how do I put this…? Well, let's just say, that policeman gave you the ticket for good reason."

Thor blinked. "I do not understand."

"It's okay, big guy." Jane patted him on the shoulder, sighing. "I should tell you here and now that going out into the streets wearing strappy heels, leopard-print lingerie, and—what are those?" She gestured at the odd leather contraptions strapped incorrectly to his limbs.

Thor brightened. "Ah! I wandered into a very odd shop to buy my outfit. The shopkeepers were very friendly, they offered me several of their strange items for sale. The nice lady told me it would give me lots of pleasure in using them. I believe the shop was called, 'Playful Fantasies'."

All the color left Jane's face. "Ahhh…. Thor?"

"Yes?"

"Could—could you do me a favor and not ever go back into that shop?"

"Truly?" Thor frowned. "I suppose, for you, dear Jane."

"Good. Yeah, so that's not really accepted in Midgardian society as suitable public attire."

"Why not?" Thor demanded. "I am not revealing any genitalia. Is that not the standard on Midgard?"

"I think it's probably a mixture of things," Jane replied. "Most people don't really want to see a guy like you in… well, very revealing clothing, especially since most people wear clothing like that to… um… arouse others."

"But it is comfortable."

"Well, I'm sure we can find clothing that is just as comfortable and a little less… anyways, I'm heading to the mall to pick up some things. Why don't you come with me?"

Fifteen minutes later, Thor was out of his… clothing choices and happily munching on a new box of fudge pop-tarts in the passenger seat of Jane's truck as she drove them to the mall.

"All right!" She said brightly as they pulled up to the structure, smiling as Thor's mouth dropped open in shock and awe. "We're here!"

"This is a wondrous place!" Thor said happily his loud voice echoing through the parking lot and causing every head to turn in their direction. "Why do we not have such a marketplace in Asgard?"

Jane laughed. "I honestly don't know, Thor. Why don't we head inside?"

"Indeed!" He pranced towards the entrance, utterly entranced, laughing uproariously as the automatic doors slid open.

"Hold on a second, Thor!" Jane raced after him, unable to stop the large smile now spreading across her face. "Calm down, big boy!"

Thor spun like a somewhat ungraceful ballerina through the main hall, whooping joyfully. "This is amazing!"

After Jane had collected Thor from his spot on the floor (either he was making invisible floor angels or doing a very bad impression of a fish), she pulled him away to go look at clothing, instructing him on what he was supposed to wear at once and certain clothing that were better choices than others. For example:

"I wouldn't wear just that swimsuit with those shorts," She said easily, tugging the bikini top from Thor's grip and replacing the tan slacks back in the cart. "Bikini tops are normally made for women's swim-suits, which are used solely for swimming. Also, they're not generally fitted for men—see how it's shaped?"

Thor, on the other hand, was rather persistent in his style choices. For example:

"But it's a very charming pattern," Thor argued. "The frills are rather attractive with the little pop-tart cats. And it's a very soft, flexible material."

"Also, I don't know if it will fit you," Jane said firmly.

Thor pouted. "I suppose." Then his eyes widened, and he grabbed an out-of-place pair of boxers. "What is this?!"

It was a pair of boxers with a cartoon version of the Hulk growling and flexing, the words "THE INCREDIBLE HULK" printed over the Hulk's head.

"Oh." Jane giggled. "Those are Hulk boxers, Thor. Didn't you know that people have merchandise based off you guys? Most of the superheroes do."

Thor fingered the boxers, his eyes alight. "How enchanting! May I purchase them?" He begged Jane, giving her the puppy-dog eyes. "I wish to purchase the whole collection!"

Jane burst out laughing. "Sure, Thor. Yes, you can wear them."

After Thor had bought the Hulk boxers, Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Spider-Man, and multiple Avengers boxers, Jane bought the rest of his clothes, easily finishing her other errands, and the two headed home.

Of course, a few days later, Jane was regretting a lot more than Thor's less-than-appropriate clothing choices.

* * *

"A moment," Thor told his friends as they made their way out of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. "I have experienced something very extraordinary, and before we depart, I would like you to have shared this experience with me."

"What is it, Thor?" Sif asked curiously. "We must return to Asgard soon; the Allfather will worry."

"We also promised Heimdall we would return as soon as possible," Hogun added.

Fandral shrugged. "I bet it would be quite entertaining."

"I do not wish to stay here," Loki muttered. "I wish to return to Asgard. I'm not welcome in Midgard anymore, in any case."

"It will be a great adventure," Thor insisted. "Come, my friends. Let us fly!"

Which meant that two hours later, six gods from Norse mythology had landed in the middle of a half-full parking lot at the Cottonwood Mall in New Mexico.

"This building is so large!" Sif shouted, her eyes wide with amazement. "You say it truly holds many stores, just as a marketplace does?"

"The shops are larger," Thor told her, smiling. "It is very beautiful."

"What are we waiting for?" Volstagg shouted. "Let us enter!"

"Come, Loki," Thor said happily, dragging his rather dubious adopted brother into the shopping mall. "I will show you the sights."

Loki, rather pink in the face, ripped his arm from Thor's grip and snapped, "I'd rather you not touch me."

Thor raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Sif dragged them both off by the ears, rolling her eyes. "Why do I have to be the responsible one? I am not the oldest, nor am I even the most responsible. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't wish to be irresponsible now and then."

"… Sorry?"

"Never mind," Sif sighed. "Oh, my."

The mall was indeed glorious, with shining marble surfaces, glinting gold, bright lights and the chatter of voices ringing through the halls. Two shining escalators rose up in front of them as they stood together, their mouths open.

"As I thought, it is just as magnificent at might," Thor said proudly. "Cheers, dear friends, we must adventure!"

"Cheers!"

After stripping off all his clothes once more to his Hulk boxes and entreating Volstagg to do the same ("You can use my man of iron boxers!"), Thor ended up bringing Volstagg to the Build-A-Bear workshop, where they proceeded to trying to figure out how to build a bear.

"I had no idea that creating life was so simple it could be done by mortal children," Thor gasped, making a mental note to ask the Allfather about it. "But surely it would be a traumatizing process? Would building a creature not be gruesome?"

"Though why the Midgardians have chosen to awaken small, friendly bears in clothing, I cannot understand," Volstagg commented. "Although I do wish to try it."

"Then let us!" Thor fumbled in his pocket for the small amount in emergency cash Jane provided him with. "This is a very important matter, let us create life!"

"Incredible," Volstagg gasped as he held up a small, heart-shaped electronic. "Could this small device truly be the key to life?"

"I must take one to the Allfather," Thor declared.

"Mommy, I'm scared!" A nearby three-year-old sobbed. "The funny men are in the stuffing!"

"It's so fluffy! I've never seen such innards," Thor pressed his face up against the glass. "It is a gruesome process, indeed. They children seem unaffected by the fact that their creatures' organs are being blown around in a box for all to see!"

While Thor and Volstagg were terrorizing small children and their teddy bears, Fandral had dragged Hogun to the Boba Tea Company in a weak attempt to soften the hardy character.

"Look, Hogun, there are odd little black balls in the bottom!" Fandral laughed merrily, casting a grin back at Hogun, who simply raised an exasperated eyebrow. "Oh, don't be such a bilgesnipe, Hogun, are you not intrigued?"

"Perhaps," Hogun said, uninterested, "But it seems we would require Midgardian money to pay for the drink. I do not have Midgardian money on my person, and I sincerely doubt you carry it with you. Unless you are willing to steal…?"

"What about charm?" There was a bright little glint in Fandral's eye. "Why could we not charm them until we do?"

"So you wish to fool them with wit."

"Indeed!"

"So, do you have a silver tongue and enough charm to fool these people, or the inclination?" Hogun smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You believe you hae the ability to get free beverages without paying for them simply by using your wit?"

Fandral drooped. "Well…" Then he brightened. "We do have Loki!"

Loki, at the moment, happened to be standing near Sif, who had taken two samples from a very kind Cinnabon employee. "Did you pay for that?"

"Don't be a bilgesnipe," Sif scolded. "The good lady told me she would not charge for a small sample. Here, try it." And she shoved it into his hands, taking a bite from her own. Her eyes lit up. "This is delicious! Much better than that trash Thor calls pop-tarts!"

"Hmm." Loki sighed, taking a bite. "Not bad," He said in surprise, popping the rest into his mouth. "Interesting."

"Delicious, yes?" Sif laughed. "You have some frosting on the corner of your mouth. Here." She rubbed it away, and Loki went pink, stepping away and grumbling. Sif grinned.

A teenage girl accidentally bumped into Loki. "Oh—sorry," She said apologetically, looking at Loki. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my God!" She squealed. "It's Tom Hiddleston!"

"Excuse me?" Loki was taken aback.

Immediately he was swarmed by a large amount of girls and guys.

"Omigod, Tom!"

"Tom, I love you!"

"Marry mee!"

"Ack!" Loki flailed wildly, his eyes bugging out. "Sif, save me!"

"Hold on!" She shouted, grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the throng. "Run!"

"OMG, Jaimie Alexander is stealing him!"

"That's my hubbie!"

"Tom, come back!"

"AAAAAAHHHHH!" The two screamed as they ran, absolutely terrified as the mob chased after them, squealing madly and foaming at their mouths.

Meanwhile, Thor and Fandral had exited the Build-A-Bear when Sif and Loki came barreling towards them, their eyes wide with fear as the mob continued to chase them. They grabbed the bemused two and dragged them into a run, not bothering to explain.

"OMG! IT'S CHRIS HEMSWORTH!"

"CHRIS, I LOVE YOU!"

Fandral and Hogun were still searching for Loki, racing around the store like idiots and bellowing his name (well, okay, so Hogun was chasing down an idiotic Fandral), even startling some of the fangirls as they caught up to the wildly sprinting group.

"LOKIIII! WE NEEEEED YOUUUUUU!" Fandral shouted happily.

"You are an idiot," Hogun grumbled fondly.

"Hello, friends! Why are you running?" Fandral laughed merrily. The smile slipped off his face as the fangirl mob grew in size. "Holy Hel, they're worse than bilgesnipe!"

(It should be noted that the fangirls were quite possibly the most terrifying monsters that Thor, Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, or Loki had ever come across.)

They had only just dodged into the nearest room (a lady's restroom) and had come to a hard stop, breathing hard and praying for sanctuary as the mob thundered past.

"What evil is this?" Thor wheezed (fangirls are notoriously fast, you know.) "What mischief have you caused, Loki?"

"I could say the same of you," Loki retorted, his face bright pink from exertion. "Why are you in nothing more than mortal underwear?"

"I think it is time that this adventure end," Sif panted, her hands on her knees. The others agreed fervently, and Thor fumbled around in his pocket for the strange object the Man of Iron had given him and tried to teach him to use.

"Do any of you happen to know how to operate a… what did he call it…? A sill fin, I believe."

"What does it do?" They crowded around the phone.

"Is it some cloaking device?" Loki mused, poking at the screen, which lit up immediately. "How odd! What is it doing?"

"Perhaps it is a weapon?" Volstagg asked. "Or a shield of some sort?"

"I'm not quite sure," Thor admitted. He pressed a small icon on the screen. A face popped up. "Ah!"

"Is that not the lady Foster?" Fandral asked. "Whatever is she doing inside that device?"

"Jane?" Thor asked. There was no reply. "Jane!" He tapped on the screen.

A thin buzzing noise emitted from the phone, and Thor nearly dropped it, his eyes going wide.

"Hello?" A tired voice asked.

"Jane!" Thor laughed in relief. "Dearest Jane, we have found ourselves in quite the predicament."

There was a loud rustling noise. "Thor, what's going on?"

"You remember that wondrous mall you took me to visit?"

A pause, then a long sigh. "Yes…. Thor, what did you get yourself into?"

"I brought my dear companions to see this sight, but there are crazed men and women chasing us around the place. They are screaming the names of people I do not know."

"They called me a woman by the name of Jaimie Alexander and Loki of a man named Tom Hiddleston," Sif added.

There was silence. Then Jane answered tersely, "Hold on a second, I'll be there as soon as I can. Can you guys sneak out to the front?"

"We will try our best," Volstagg declared.

Which meant that fifteen minutes later, all six Asgardians were sprinting headlong into the parking lot with pure terror on their faces, screaming like pre-pubescent children as the terrifyingly large throng of fangirls chased after them.

Jane pulled up in her tuck, her eyes wide. "Get in!" She yelled, slamming the tuck door as she sprinted off to the side, clambering on the top of a car. The Asgardians did not hesitate to leap into her truck bed and duck down as she shouted, "Hiddlesworth forever!"

The entire mob stopped, frozen in place. One voice squealed, "No way! Tom is mine!"

"Screw you!" Another voice retorted shrilly. "Tom and Chris are soooo perfect for each other!"

"Chris has a wife and a child! He's not going to be with Tom, get it straight!

"Yeah, he's better than that!"

"Oh, so you're against gays, huh?!"

"Homosexuality is so gross!"

"Shut up, bitch!"

"Yeah, no one asked you!"

"There's nothing wrong with being gay!"

"It's in the Bible, idiots! It's a sin!"

"Well, God didn't write the Bible, did he?! A bunch of rascist, sexist, homophobic men wrote that, and then a bunch of rascist, sexist, homophobic men translated it!"

"YOU LITTLE—"

This, of course, unleashed a huge fangirl war filled with what looked to be hundreds of angry fangirls. But by that time, Jane had slipped back into the car and was speeding away with the Asgardians stashed away in the bed.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Jane muttered.

"Thank you, Jane," Thor shouted.

"You're welcome," Jane shouted back. "Wait—Thor, why are you just wearing Hulk boxers?"

Thor smiled brightly. "They're quite soft."

"Lady Foster, could you purchase Cinnabon cinnamon rolls from this marketplace?" Loki inquired politely.

"And a bear from the Build-A-Bear workshop?" Volstagg added.

Fandral started. "Oh! And, perhaps, two of those fascinating drinks from the Boba Tea Company?"

"… I think maybe it's time you go back to Asgard."

* * *

**Review! Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?**


	4. Heroic Uses For Pulchritudinous Plantae

_In which things are learned about taking down alien grocers, Natasha is a pervert, Clint is gay, and the author apologizes as her sense of humor rapidly begins to fail._

_All rights go to Marvel._

_Read and Review!_

* * *

**********Heroic Uses For Pulchritudinous Plantae**  
**(Or, "Secret Agents Have Astonishingly Sexual Minds")**

"For the last time, Clint, no, you cannot wear my glasses," Natasha growled under her breath, shooting her partner a Death Look™.

Clint groaned, trying to send Natasha his best pleading gaze. She was not impressed. "Come onnnn, Nat, they're just glasses!" He begged under his breath.

She whispered pointedly, "Last time I checked, ninjas did not wear hipster glasses."

Natasha slipped a cheese roll into a small brown paper bag, rolling it up and tossing it to him with a flick of her hand. Clint caught it deftly, still giving her his attempt at a puppy-dog look.

Agent Natalia "Natasha Romanoff" Romanova worked undercover as an employee at the Morgan's Market deli on Hudson Street. Agent Clint Barton, on the other hand, was an employee at Ninja New York down the street using his break times and lunches to visit his partner. By day, Natasha was Isabella "Iz" Jones and Clint was Michael "Mike" Smith, roommates and close friends. At night, they returned to a shared apartment in Battery Park. It could be draining at times; the constant facades and acting were difficult to keep up sixteen out of twenty-four hours a day, and Natasha was never one for acting like a hipster in her twenties.

They'd been doing so for about a year, constantly in disguise (items like these were necessary to blend in now that the world knew their faces); Natasha was a good employee and Clint… well, he hadn't been fired yet, which could be construed as a good sign. The mission had required the two to be undercover for an undefined period of time; they had been assigned to infiltrate a drug business run by a hostile organization of extraterrestrial beings that practiced the magical arts.

"Isn't it time you go back to work, _Mike?"_ Nat grumbled, her voice now at normal level. "You've been here long enough."

"Why?" Clint said petulantly. "You're not the boss of me." Nat raised one dangerous eyebrow. "Aw, c'mon, _Iz_, you know you love me. And besides, I've technically been working longer than you have, so I should get automatic superiority."

Nat's eyes flashed as she caught what the hidden message behind his words. "Oh, really?" Clint felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a malevolent glint flickered across Natasha's eyes. It was payback time. He swallowed hard. "I have to obey you, hmm? Does that mean I have to call you 'Master'?"

Pink flooded Clint's cheeks, but he forced a tense smile. "Yep. I'm—I'm your master."

"Oh? It was a valid question. Perhaps were you thinking of that in a perverted way?" She chuckled. "For all the talk that Tony's the one with the perverted mind, you sure could give him a run for his money."

"I—I have no idea what you're talking about," Clint declared, his face steadily growing redder.

"Don't deny it, _Mike_," Nat said, attempting to suppress a grin (and failing miserably, for once.) "I thought I was your subordinate. And if you want, I can be your slave and let you do anything you want to me."

"You're a sick, sick, bastard, Iz."

"Anything your heart desires, Master." Nat smirked, curtsying.

"Ugh." Clint gave up then, burying his face in his hands. "Stop iiiit," He whined.

"Or what?" Nat laughed. "Are you going to punish me?"

"Iiiizzz!"

"I'm sorry, Master. Would you like to punish me? Would you prefer a whip, perhaps? Or your body?"

Clint shot her an evil look, his cheeks as red as a teenager that had walking in on their parents doing the horizontal tango. "I swear, I'm going to push you into the oven."

"Of course, Master. I will get as hot and sweaty as it pleasures you."

"Seriously. I might just go crazy and eat you or something afterwards."

"If you believe I would taste good, Master. You may lick me clean."

"What's going on here?" One of Nat's fellow employees, Mia, leaned up against the counter with a wide smile spread across her face. "Mike bothering you again, Iz?"

Nat sighed. "He is, but I can't say that to his face. He is my master, after all."

"Oh, really?" Mia grinned. "Is that true, Mike?"

"I'm going to hurt you," Clint groused at Natasha.

Natasha turned to Mia and said with a completely straight face, "My master is going to punish me because I'm a bad, bad girl."

"Interesting." Another coworker, Sophia, slid up beside Mia. "I was under the impression you were gay, Mike."

(It should be noted that while Natasha's cover identity was straight, Clint's cover identity was gay.)

(And no, that was not Clint's idea.)

(It was Natasha's.)

"I am!" Clint protested. "Iz is just being weird!"

""Oh, I don't know, Soph, maybe Iz really is bad, and he just has to keep her in check." Mia smiled evilly. "With a whip."

"That's it. I'm leaving." Clint, as red as a tomato, got to his feet and strode out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Don't expect me to wait for you to walk home together!"

"Run bitch, run!" Natasha called after him.

Mia laughed, shaking her head. "Anyways, the whole reason I came over here was to tell you that Trovatelli forgot to refill his meds again. You willing to head to the pharmacy for him and get 'em for the man?"

"Of course." Nat nodded, cleaning up and brushing the crumbs off on her apron, pulling it over her head. "I'll be right back."

"I'll fill for you," Mia called after her.

* * *

Natasha strode out from the pharmacy into the cool evening, pills in hand, the sun drifting behind thick clouds and lining them with fiery hues.

A short distance in front of her, Clint was grumbling, no doubt having retracted his statement to walk with Natasha home; her shift ended soon. Natasha smirked; even from behind, you could clearly see his ears were still red.

She was just about to call out his name when a sleek, modern black car pulled up to the sidewalk just ahead of her and a man a suit stepped out. Every hair on her body rose, and she slowed down as Agent Phil Coulson fell in step beside her.

"Phil," Natasha murmured. "Good to see you here."

"Indeed," Phil replied. "We're going to have to take you out for a moment."

"Give me ten more minutes, and Mike and I can copy," She said, deadpanned.

"It's imperative that we remove you now."

"Can it wait ten minutes?"

Many passerby were glancing suspiciously at Coulson, who appeared to look uncannily like some stalker. (In case you were wondering, a pretty girl with a suspicious man following her is not a concept that falls under the category 'acceptable.) Seeing the rather wary look on several passerby's faces, Natasha slowed down even further, pretended to glance at Phil in passing, then froze, an incredibly realistic smile of surprise spreading across her face. "Phil?"

Phil blinked. "Yes?"

Natasha broke into a wide grin. "Heyyy! Gosh, it's been forever since I've seen you!"

"It has?"

"Yeah!" She stepped forward and embraced him, kissing him a half-inch from his mouth. Phil froze, red creeping his neck and into his cheeks. "Oh, wow!"

The attention had been diverted; however, Clint had slowed considerably, falling back to the two. "Phil."

"Mike," Phil said. "We need to remove you from the mission for a short while."

"It can wait ten minutes," Natasha insisted. "That's all I need."

Coulson sighed. "All right. But I have to pick up Steve, Tony and Bruce, and you know what those three get up to."

Clint and Natasha's snicker of agreement was cut short by the sound of screams. They were coming directly from Morgan's Market; the sound of breaking glass, crashes and more screaming grew louder, the civilians on the street beginning to crowd around the store, trying to see in. Three gunshots echoed across the street, and all three broke into a run, sprinting towards the store, and shoving civilians out of the way, Coulson calling for backup.

As Natasha kicked the door open, they burst inside, guns out. Some of the fluorescent lights flickered and hissed menacingly, while the sound of whimpering and shouting came from the back.

"Hold up a second," Clint whispered. "Look."

Glancing past the low shelves, the humanoid figures of a man and a woman in white drifted past, holding odd guns at the terrified employees and customers and whispering to each other in an odd, hissing language. Every inch of them, from their skin to their hair and eyes, were entirely devoid of colour. Ignoring this and the fact that antlers were sprouting from their heads, they looked surprisingly human. Natasha recognized them from the debriefing file—these were the aliens they were looking for.

"Ugly as I thought they'd be," Clint whispered. "They're really wand-wielding sorcerers from Mars bent on destruction?"

"You make it sound like the students from Hogwarts have gone mad," Natasha muttered. "And I doubt they actually have _wands._ Let's just take them out and get this over with."

Coulson tapped Natasha's shoulder three times, and she nodded, slipping forwards as he slipped back to the front of the store. Clint hid behind a shelf, quietly cocking his gun as they waited for the plan to be launched.

Natasha reached into her pocket to pull out her gun, then hesitated and withdrew her hand, eyeing the discarded gun on the floor. Her hand brushed a pot, and she glanced down, seeing a beautiful white orchid decorating the shelf.

"And we will rule the galaxies with cheese bread and guns!" One of the aliens roared, laughing heartily. Natasha raised one eyebrow.

"What the fuck?" Clint muttered to Coulson.

"Yes, indeed… First Midgard, then the rest of the Nine Realms… And we will rule them all with our delicacies and our recipes! We will be the greatest cooks in the entire omniverse!"

"I thought they were looking for world domination," Clint said to Phil, who looked utterly bewildered. "Aren't they?"

"When we last confronted them, they started screaming that they would dominate all of Midgard and tried to blast us with space-guns," Phil insisted. "I have no idea why they're talking about bread!"

"With this grocery, we will mount a full-scale invasion! As we slowly take control and buy even the richest food suppliers, we will have ruled the entire world with our monopoly and proceed to feeding even the deepest corners of the universe!"

"You know, that's actually kind of nice," Clint said conversationally. "Except for the whole crazy part. But you know."

With that, he struck a match and tossed it, slipping behind a barrier as an enormous explosion rocked the front of the store.

"Noooo!" The aliens wailed. "The food—the foooood! We must salvage the fooooood!"

One of the aliens sprinted towards the front of the store, wailing dramatically. Their skin had begun to change colors—blue to pink to red to vomit. "The broccoli!"

"The peaches!"

"The cheese bread!"

There were loud crashes and bangs from the front of the store, and several grunts of pain; Nat found herself itching to join the fight, but stayed put, keeping an eye on the other alien. Said creature twitched, her narrowed eyes fixated on the explosion. It was then Natasha chose to move.

Natasha brought down the beautiful orchid down on the head of the woman, who crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The hostages gasped and murmured, shocked to see their coworker standing over the alien. She took a deep breath, and turned to face the people, adopting a shocked and slightly tearful expression. "Oh my God, that was terrifying," She whimpered. "Are—are you guys okay?"

"Cheese bread," The alien whimpered.

Silence. Then, "Omigosh, Iz, that was amazing!" Mia gasped, hurrying forward and throwing her arms around Iz, shaking slightly.

"You saved us." Mr. Trovatelli, the manager, came forward, his eyes wide. "I—thank you."

"You're welcome," Natasha said, leaking dumb shock into her voice. "I—yeah. Um… Let's get out of here. The police should be here soon."

Fifteen minutes later, Nat, Clint, Phil and the hostages were outside surrounded by police (and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents), answering questions and receiving medical attention; a large crowd had formed around the extremely uncomfortable trio, praising them and asking constant questions.

"I can't believe the media isn't allowed to print stories about this," Sophia murmured. "You guys are heroes."

"Well," Clint said hastily, "I guess it's all for the better, y'know, to keep us safe from, like attacks or something. Just in case."

"It is," Mia agreed. "But us, we won't forget. You guys saved us."

"I don't know how to repay you, Iz," Mr. Trovatelli said solemnly. "I swear that at the very least, you'll get a raise and lots of paid vacation time."

"What about me?" Clint joked.

Trovatelli scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Mike, I don't know what I can do for you, but I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"And you?" Everyone turned their gaze to Phil. "… What is your name?" Mia asked, flushing a little.

"Come to think of it, you do look pretty familiar," Sophia frowned, and many of the others nodded. "Maybe on TV…? The news, maybe?"

"This… is… my boyfriend Phil!" Clint blurted.

Phil blinked, his face slowly turning redder than a tomato. "… I…"

"Your boyfriend?" Sophia looked surprised.

"Y—Yeah!" Clint gave a horrible smile. "He, um, we just got together a few weeks ago. We've been waiting to make it official. You live in Brooklyn, right, erm, honey?"

"… Um?"

"It's nice to meet you," Mia shook his hand, clutching at the blanket around her shoulders.

"Yeah, he came to see me," Clint said hurriedly, throwing his arm around Phil. "I wish you wouldn't have been here, babe, but I'm glad you didn't get hurt."

Clint was apologizing profusely with his gaze, and before Phil knew it, Clint's hands were on his cheeks and he was kissing him gently. Phil was frozen in place, several things flickering through his mind, ranging from "what the hell" to "shit, what do I do" to "damn, he's not half bad" to "I am going to kick his ass later for this" to "wow, I can't really breathe right now" to "mmmmrrrrpppph", etc.

When they finally broke apart, Phil was swaying in place, blinking in confusion. "Uggg," Was all he could say, pawing dizzily at his mouth.

"I think I'll head back home," Natasha muttered. "Why don't we take Phil's car?"

"Agreed," Clint said fervently, dragging a still shocked Phil away. "Hey, on the way, can we stop for a snack?"**Heroic Uses For Pulchritudinous Plantae** **(Or, Secret Agents Have Astonishingly Sexual Minds)**

"For the last time, Clint, no, you cannot wear my glasses," Natasha growled under her breath, shooting her partner a Death Look™.

Clint groaned, trying to send Natasha his best pleading gaze. She was not impressed. "Come onnnn, Nat, they're just glasses!" He begged under his breath.

She whispered pointedly, "Last time I checked, ninjas did not wear hipster glasses."

Natasha slipped a cheese roll into a small brown paper bag, rolling it up and tossing it to him with a flick of her hand. Clint caught it deftly, still giving her his attempt at a puppy-dog look.

Agent Natalia "Natasha Romanoff" Romanova worked undercover as an employee at the Morgan's Market deli on Hudson Street. Agent Clint Barton, on the other hand, was an employee at Ninja New York down the street using his break times and lunches to visit his partner. By day, Natasha was Isabella "Iz" Jones and Clint was Michael "Mike" Smith, roommates and close friends. At night, they returned to a shared apartment in Battery Park. It could be draining at times; the constant facades and acting were difficult to keep up sixteen out of twenty-four hours a day, and Natasha was never one for acting like a hipster in her twenties.

They'd been doing so for about a year, constantly in disguise (items like these were necessary to blend in now that the world knew their faces); Natasha was a good employee and Clint… well, he hadn't been fired yet, which could be construed as a good sign. The mission had required the two to be undercover for an undefined period of time; they had been assigned to infiltrate a drug business run by a hostile organization of extraterrestrial beings that practiced the magical arts.

"Isn't it time you go back to work, _Mike?"_ Nat grumbled, her voice now at normal level. "You've been here long enough."

"Why?" Clint said petulantly. "You're not the boss of me." Nat raised one dangerous eyebrow. "Aw, c'mon, _Iz_, you know you love me. And besides, I've technically been working longer than you have, so I should get automatic superiority."

Nat's eyes flashed as she caught what the hidden message behind his words. "Oh, really?" Clint felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a malevolent glint flickered across Natasha's eyes. It was payback time. He swallowed hard. "I have to obey you, hmm? Does that mean I have to call you 'Master'?"

Pink flooded Clint's cheeks, but he forced a tense smile. "Yep. I'm—I'm your master."

"Oh? It was a valid question. Perhaps were you thinking of that in a perverted way?" She chuckled. "For all the talk that Tony's the one with the perverted mind, you sure could give him a run for his money."

"I—I have no idea what you're talking about," Clint declared, his face steadily growing redder.

"Don't deny it, _Mike_," Nat said, attempting to suppress a grin (and failing miserably, for once.) "I thought I was your subordinate. And if you want, I can be your slave and let you do anything you want to me."

"You're a sick, sick, bastard, Iz."

"Anything your heart desires, Master." Nat smirked, curtsying.

"Ugh." Clint gave up then, burying his face in his hands. "Stop iiiit," He whined.

"Or what?" Nat laughed. "Are you going to punish me?"

"Iiiizzz!"

"I'm sorry, Master. Would you like to punish me? Would you prefer a whip, perhaps? Or your body?"

Clint shot her an evil look, his cheeks as red as a teenager that had walking in on their parents doing the horizontal tango. "I swear, I'm going to push you into the oven."

"Of course, Master. I will get as hot and sweaty as it pleasures you."

"Seriously. I might just go crazy and eat you or something afterwards."

"If you believe I would taste good, Master. You may lick me clean."

"What's going on here?" One of Nat's fellow employees, Mia, leaned up against the counter with a wide smile spread across her face. "Mike bothering you again, Iz?"

Nat sighed. "He is, but I can't say that to his face. He is my master, after all."

"Oh, really?" Mia grinned. "Is that true, Mike?"

"I'm going to hurt you," Clint groused at Natasha.

Natasha turned to Mia and said with a completely straight face, "My master is going to punish me because I'm a bad, bad girl."

"Interesting." Another coworker, Sophia, slid up beside Mia. "I was under the impression you were gay, Mike."

(It should be noted that while Natasha's cover identity was straight, Clint's cover identity was gay.)

(And no, that was not Clint's idea.)

(It was Natasha's.)

"I am!" Clint protested. "Iz is just being weird!"

""Oh, I don't know, Soph, maybe Iz really is bad, and he just has to keep her in check." Mia smiled evilly. "With a whip."

"That's it. I'm leaving." Clint, as red as a tomato, got to his feet and strode out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Don't expect me to wait for you to walk home together!"

"Run bitch, run!" Natasha called after him.

Mia laughed, shaking her head. "Anyways, the whole reason I came over here was to tell you that Trovatelli forgot to refill his meds again. You willing to head to the pharmacy for him and get 'em for the man?"

"Of course." Nat nodded, cleaning up and brushing the crumbs off on her apron, pulling it over her head. "I'll be right back."

"I'll fill for you," Mia called after her.

* * *

Natasha strode out from the pharmacy into the cool evening, pills in hand, the sun drifting behind thick clouds and lining them with fiery hues.

A short distance in front of her, Clint was grumbling, no doubt having retracted his statement to walk with Natasha home; her shift ended soon. Natasha smirked; even from behind, you could clearly see his ears were still red.

She was just about to call out his name when a sleek, modern black car pulled up to the sidewalk just ahead of her and a man a suit stepped out. Every hair on her body rose, and she slowed down as Agent Phil Coulson fell in step beside her.

"Phil," Natasha murmured. "Good to see you here."

"Indeed," Phil replied. "We're going to have to take you out for a moment."

"Give me ten more minutes, and Mike and I can copy," She said, deadpanned.

"It's imperative that we remove you now."

"Can it wait ten minutes?"

Many passerby were glancing suspiciously at Coulson, who appeared to look uncannily like some stalker. (In case you were wondering, a pretty girl with a suspicious man following her is not a concept that falls under the category 'acceptable.) Seeing the rather wary look on several passerby's faces, Natasha slowed down even further, pretended to glance at Phil in passing, then froze, an incredibly realistic smile of surprise spreading across her face. "Phil?"

Phil blinked. "Yes?"

Natasha broke into a wide grin. "Heyyy! Gosh, it's been forever since I've seen you!"

"It has?"

"Yeah!" She stepped forward and embraced him, kissing him a half-inch from his mouth. Phil froze, red creeping his neck and into his cheeks. "Oh, wow!"

The attention had been diverted; however, Clint had slowed considerably, falling back to the two. "Phil."

"Mike," Phil said. "We need to remove you from the mission for a short while."

"It can wait ten minutes," Natasha insisted. "That's all I need."

Coulson sighed. "All right. But I have to pick up Steve, Tony and Bruce, and you know what those three get up to."

Clint and Natasha's snicker of agreement was cut short by the sound of screams. They were coming directly from Morgan's Market; the sound of breaking glass, crashes and more screaming grew louder, the civilians on the street beginning to crowd around the store, trying to see in. Three gunshots echoed across the street, and all three broke into a run, sprinting towards the store, and shoving civilians out of the way, Coulson calling for backup.

As Natasha kicked the door open, they burst inside, guns out. Some of the fluorescent lights flickered and hissed menacingly, while the sound of whimpering and shouting came from the back.

"Hold up a second," Clint whispered. "Look."

Glancing past the low shelves, the humanoid figures of a man and a woman in white drifted past, holding odd guns at the terrified employees and customers and whispering to each other in an odd, hissing language. Every inch of them, from their skin to their hair and eyes, were entirely devoid of colour. Ignoring this and the fact that antlers were sprouting from their heads, they looked surprisingly human. Natasha recognized them from the debriefing file—these were the aliens they were looking for.

"Ugly as I thought they'd be," Clint whispered. "They're really wand-wielding sorcerers from Mars bent on destruction?"

"You make it sound like the students from Hogwarts have gone mad," Natasha muttered. "And I doubt they actually have _wands._ Let's just take them out and get this over with."

Coulson tapped Natasha's shoulder three times, and she nodded, slipping forwards as he slipped back to the front of the store. Clint hid behind a shelf, quietly cocking his gun as they waited for the plan to be launched.

Natasha reached into her pocket to pull out her gun, then hesitated and withdrew her hand, eyeing the discarded gun on the floor. Her hand brushed a pot, and she glanced down, seeing a beautiful white orchid decorating the shelf.

"And we will rule the galaxies with cheese bread and guns!" One of the aliens roared, laughing heartily. Natasha raised one eyebrow.

"What the fuck?" Clint muttered to Coulson.

"Yes, indeed… First Midgard, then the rest of the Nine Realms… And we will rule them all with our delicacies and our recipes! We will be the greatest cooks in the entire omniverse!"

"I thought they were looking for world domination," Clint said to Phil, who looked utterly bewildered. "Aren't they?"

"When we last confronted them, they started screaming that they would dominate all of Midgard and tried to blast us with space-guns," Phil insisted. "I have no idea why they're talking about bread!"

"With this grocery, we will mount a full-scale invasion! As we slowly take control and buy even the richest food suppliers, we will have ruled the entire world with our monopoly and proceed to feeding even the deepest corners of the universe!"

"You know, that's actually kind of nice," Clint said conversationally. "Except for the whole crazy part. But you know."

With that, he struck a match and tossed it, slipping behind a barrier as an enormous explosion rocked the front of the store.

"Noooo!" The aliens wailed. "The food—the foooood! We must salvage the fooooood!"

One of the aliens sprinted towards the front of the store, wailing dramatically. Their skin had begun to change colors—blue to pink to red to vomit. "The broccoli!"

"The peaches!"

"The cheese bread!"

There were loud crashes and bangs from the front of the store, and several grunts of pain; Nat found herself itching to join the fight, but stayed put, keeping an eye on the other alien. Said creature twitched, her narrowed eyes fixated on the explosion. It was then Natasha chose to move.

Natasha brought down the beautiful orchid down on the head of the woman, who crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The hostages gasped and murmured, shocked to see their coworker standing over the alien. She took a deep breath, and turned to face the people, adopting a shocked and slightly tearful expression. "Oh my God, that was terrifying," She whimpered. "Are—are you guys okay?"

"Cheese bread," The alien whimpered.

Silence. Then, "Omigosh, Iz, that was amazing!" Mia gasped, hurrying forward and throwing her arms around Iz, shaking slightly.

"You saved us." Mr. Trovatelli, the manager, came forward, his eyes wide. "I—thank you."

"You're welcome," Natasha said, leaking dumb shock into her voice. "I—yeah. Um… Let's get out of here. The police should be here soon."

Fifteen minutes later, Nat, Clint, Phil and the hostages were outside surrounded by police (and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents), answering questions and receiving medical attention; a large crowd had formed around the extremely uncomfortable trio, praising them and asking constant questions.

"I can't believe the media isn't allowed to print stories about this," Sophia murmured. "You guys are heroes."

"Well," Clint said hastily, "I guess it's all for the better, y'know, to keep us safe from, like attacks or something. Just in case."

"It is," Mia agreed. "But us, we won't forget. You guys saved us."

"I don't know how to repay you, Iz," Mr. Trovatelli said solemnly. "I swear that at the very least, you'll get a raise and lots of paid vacation time."

"What about me?" Clint joked.

Trovatelli scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Mike, I don't know what I can do for you, but I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"And you?" Everyone turned their gaze to Phil. "… What is your name?" Mia asked, flushing a little.

"Come to think of it, you do look pretty familiar," Sophia frowned, and many of the others nodded. "Maybe on TV…? The news, maybe?"

"This… is… my boyfriend Phil!" Clint blurted.

Phil blinked, his face slowly turning redder than a tomato. "… I…"

"Your boyfriend?" Sophia looked surprised.

"Y—Yeah!" Clint gave a horrible smile. "He, um, we just got together a few weeks ago. We've been waiting to make it official. You live in Brooklyn, right, erm, honey?"

"… Um?"

"It's nice to meet you," Mia shook his hand, clutching at the blanket around her shoulders.

"Yeah, he came to see me," Clint said hurriedly, throwing his arm around Phil. "I wish you wouldn't have been here, babe, but I'm glad you didn't get hurt."

Clint was apologizing profusely with his gaze, and before Phil knew it, Clint's hands were on his cheeks and he was kissing him gently. Phil was frozen in place, several things flickering through his mind, ranging from "what the hell" to "shit, what do I do" to "damn, he's not half bad" to "I am going to kick his ass later for this" to "wow, I can't really breathe right now" to "mmmmrrrrpppph", etc.

When they finally broke apart, Phil was swaying in place, blinking in confusion. "Uggg," Was all he could say, pawing dizzily at his mouth.

"I think I'll head back home," Natasha muttered. "Why don't we take Phil's car?"

"Agreed," Clint said fervently, dragging a still shocked Phil away. "Hey, on the way, can we stop for a snack?"

* * *

**If you review my story, you get the world's tastiest imaginary brownie cooked by my master imaginary chef at his imaginary cuisine restaurant. It actually would cost an imaginary million bucks, but if you review my story, you can have it for real free. Otherwise, pay up if you want my imaginary brownie.**


	5. Bruce Banner's Big Bake-Off

_Where we learn that while the Avengers are a wonderful team, they are not necessarily competent cooks. There will be flaming pop-tarts and kissing contests. And the molesting of innocent super villains._

_All rights go to Marvel._

_Read and Review!_

* * *

******Bruce Banner's Big Bake-Off**  
**(Or, Why Darcy's Cat Needs Washing) **

Bruce had been cautious about his role in the whole business, but really, he should have seen it coming.

The courtyard was swimming with people, even as the late afternoon sun blazed down, a sharp glare cast off the pavement. Only the shade of the booths provided any relief from the sunlight that descended on vulture wings. The air was thick with the scent of food; thick, sugary sweetness intermingled with savory, mouth-watering smells and flaming dishes to burn the tongue. All around, people were laughing, chattering about the seemingly impossible event they were here to enjoy: a cook-off, hosted by the generous, heroic Avengers, sponsored by Stark Industries, and a fundraiser to help refurbish government facilities in need of money.

In truth, it was a fundraiser for S.H.I.E.L.D. to rebuild the parts of headquarters destroyed by the Avengers and a certain group of godlike alien beings some weeks past, as well as punishment for said involved parties. The mild-mannered Bruce Banner, who was (ironically, considering he was the Hulk) the least to blame of all the Avengers for the havoc at headquarters, would be a judge alongside the lovely Pepper Pots, the wise Jane Foster, and the eccentric Darcy Lewis. The rest of the involved parties (i.e. the other Avengers and, forcibly, the Asgardians) were to be cooks, and therefore subjected to cook dishes and try to win the prize, which was a life's supply of StarkPhones (and no, that was not Tony's idea, it was Pepper's idea, of course) and StarkPads.

The large number of contestants had created a necessity for space, and so they had rented out Central Park, lining the contestants along the walkways and in the field, all awaiting their food to be tasted. After civilians had voted for the top twenty dishes, the judges would then taste them and narrow it down to three, taking another vote and narrowing it down to the winner. At this point in the day, the top twenty dishes had been selected, while the rest had either packed up their booths or had continued to sell their food anyway.

Honestly, Bruce mused as he wandered around, steeling himself to taste the different finalist dishes, he'd rather be one of the ones cooking. He wasn't half bad, after all, even if he didn't have a prize-worthy talent, and he'd never enjoyed being in the spotlight. As a contestant, he could have hidden—most people knew the Hulk, and less so his true identity, and therefore would receive less attention.

"Yo, Brucie-babe, snap out of it!" Bruce sighed and turned to face Tony, who was grinning at him and waving a burnt, egg-crusted spatula at him.

(It should be noted that because there were no people standing at the man's booth, Bruce took that to be a very bad sign.)

"Tony," Bruce said politely, stepping forward to the genius's booth. He bent down to inspect the food, his brow furrowing as he stared at the food on the cracked, chipping platter before him. "So, what do you have for me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tony scoffed, flinging his arms wide and nearly smashing a passerby in the face with his spatula, hitting everyone in a twenty-foot radius with poorly-cooked egg. "It's an omelet!"

It certainly didn't look like an omelet, Bruce thought nervously, swallowing hard and forcing a smile at Tony, who happily began serving the judge part of his… creation. The egg didn't look entirely cooked (it was still oozing), there were miniscule egg shells in it (ugh, is that a band-aid?), it was mottled with blue and green (…how did he even do that?), and it smelled like rancid milk.

Bruce took the plate from an eager Tony and smiled weakly, dipping his fork into the omelet with a shaking hand and bringing it up to his mouth, sticking it in with a wince. He choked.

"Whaddya think?" Tony asked brightly.

"It's—such a unique flavor!" Bruce shuddered as it slid down his throat, making a mental note to lock himself up in his lab and do a check-up later. "Wow, um, it's so interesting! I've never had anything like it!" (Hell yeah, he'd never had anything like it…)

"Perfect!" Tony beamed. "I'm sure I'll win now! Hey, now that I know I'm going to win, I think I'll go steal some of those cupcakes from the God of Mischief's booth and flaunt my win in his face. He'll burst a vein, I know it!"

Bruce nodded, and the second Tony had his back turned, he stumbled away, retching into the nearest trashcan before staggering off to the next booth, grabbing cup after cup of water and gulping them down.

"Hey, Bruce!" Another voice called, and the man jumped a foot in the air. He put a smile on his face as he approached Steve, who was smiling at the man. "How are you?"

"Fine," Bruce said, smiling back weakly. "You?"

"Glowing!" Steve said proudly, showing him his own culinary creation. It was a beautiful apple pie, golden and delicious; Bruce inhaled, smelling cinnamon and vanilla alongside fresh, crisp apples. "Would you care to try some?"

"Of course," Bruce said gratefully, accepting Steve's offering and taking a bite. He twitched. "Tony didn't help you make it, right?"

"No," Steve said seriously, glancing at the other man's booth. "But is it all right that he helped me find certain ingredients? It turns out that Thor ate my first pie just last night, and I'm still not used to the new kitchen, so he helped me the ingredients for the second one." Steve rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It still came out fine, though, right? I haven't had the chance to taste it."

"It's all right," Bruce mumbled, swallowing hard and cracking a smile that turned out more like a grimace. "I promise I won't hold that against you." He nodded stiffly, then hurried away, dumping the rest of his pie in the trash can. "So salty," He wheezed, before grabbing more water.

(It should also be noted that Tony is not in any way a competent cook, and would therefore not be able to tell the difference between sugar and salt.)

As an uncle, Bruce felt an obligation to visit his nephew Peter's booth, smiling at the young man.

"Hey, Uncle Bruce!" Peter beamed, presenting what appeared to be some type of sushi with spam in it. "Would you like to try my spam musubi?"

"Your what?"

"Spam musubi!" Peter laughed. "I promise, it's not poisonous, I've made it before and you've loved it. You probably just don't remember it."

"Ah," Bruce said, nodding and plucking one of them off the top of the pile and taking a tentative bite. Red slowly began to creep up his neck. "W—What's in it?" Bruce asked nervously.

"Well," Peter said thoughtfully, tapping his chin, "It has cooked spam that I glazed in a sugar and soy sauce blend, rice from our cooker, dried seaweed, and this spicy sauce I found at the asian marketplace. I can't quite remember what it's called though… I swear, it's on the tip of my tongue… I used a lot of it, though, I didn't think it would be too spicy, since the store clerk assured me it wasn't that spicy since he had it in his phở all the time…"

"Sriracha," Bruce wheezed.

"That's it!" Peter nodded approvingly. "I got in this jar because the store clerk said the stuff in the jar was spicier than the stuff in the bottle. I tried a spoonful, and he's right, it wasn't that spicy! So I just spooned some on each and hoped for the best, you know?"

Bruce could only nod and give a still-blathering Peter a thumbs-up before sprinting away and snatching more water (the booth's owner was starting to look a little annoyed.)

"'Sup, man?" Bruce started as Darcy Lewis threw her arm over his shoulder, smiling. "How's the judging going?"

"Oh—hello, Darcy," Bruce said politely. "It's all right. And you?"

Darcy winced. "Most of the entries are fine—you really should taste Contestant #32's steak, it's perfect—but I'd take small bites at Captain America's pie booth. And you might want to avoid Loki's booth altogether and just say you tasted his fruit tarts."

"I see." Bruce cracked a smile. "And I might advise you to be very wary of Mr. Stark's omelets."

"Oh, I saw those," Pepper came up behind them, sighing. "The man may be a genius, but even I think he doesn't know how those blue and green spots got into his omelets. But Contestant #14 has the best strawberry pie I've ever tasted; I've never had any strawberry pie without rhubarb before, but that was delicious."

"Really?" Bruce said, curious. "I may just go over and—"

"MY FRIENDS!" Thor roared behind them, and all three startled, Darcy diving behind a trash can while Pepper turned around, nonchalantly pretending she wasn't really there while Bruce flailed his arms madly for a moment before recomposing himself. Thor hurried up to the trio, smiling widely. "Lady Potts, Darcy, friend Bruce, I insist you come try my food," He said happily, gesturing towards his booth, where a worried Jane was already standing. "Come, come! I promise, you will enjoy them immensely!"

He led them over to his booth, where small, square-shaped, lumpy pastries drenched in multi-colored frosting and rainbow sprinkles sat in wait. "Homemade pop-tarts!"

In all honesty, they gave off the strong impression that a unicorn had stomped all over a nyan-cat and then vomited rainbows and glitter all over the poor thing.

"It looks delicious, Thor," Pepper said kindly, her eye twitching madly. "But… we've already had some, haven't we?" The others nodded hurriedly, seeing Jane's warning look and hurried shaking of her head from behind Thor's back. The god, utterly oblivious, frowned and scratched his head.

"Indeed? I must have forgotten… how strange. Well, why not one more for the road?"

"No!" Darcy blurted, then stammered as Thor blinked, "I—I mean, we have to save some room for the other contestants' food, Thor, we can't just stuff ourselves on your delicious pop-tarts."

Of course, of course." Thor nodded gravely. He broke into a wide smile. "But when you are finished, do not hesitate to visit my stall and gorge yourselves as much as you like upon my pop tarts!"

The next booth over, Sif, who wore an apron that said "WORLD'S BEST DAD", laughed. "Your pop-tarts are nothing compared to my homemade cinnamon rolls!"

"My roasted meats will best all of your dishes!" Volstagg declared.

Fandral scoffed. "I will win! I have succeeded in successfully recreating tapioca balls!"

"You bought those at a store," Hogun called, smirking. "Clearly my blended iced beverages will win this contest! Hey, where did they go?"

"Thank goodness," Jane breathed as they hurried away from Thor's booth, "They taste like gasoline and pepper, it's awful!"

"Hey hey heyyyy!" Clint popped up in front of them out of nowhere, prompting several girlish shrieks from all four (yes, including Bruce) of the judges. "Who wants to try my delicious fondue?"

Natasha appeared, making a disgusted noise. "Why would they want to taste your fondue when I have melted chocolate?"

Clint scoffed. "Everyone loves my fondue. You love my fondue."

"And you love my melted chocolate," Natasha countered. "Although I seem to remember you scrambling around to find the right foods to dip in them and came up with those." She gestured at his small assortment of food, which was made up mainly of crackers and meats.

"And I thought you burnt yours," He shot back. "Or at least that's what I tasted at the bottom of your melted-chocolate."

"Your fondue smells awful."

"So does your face."

"Oh, really? Well, it looks like your face caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a hammer."

"Your make-up won't fix your stupidity."

"I don't wear make-up, dumbass. Are you always a dumbass, or just when I'm around?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself so no one else has to?"

"It'd be a lot more pleasant doing myself than it ever is doing you."

"You have small breasts."

"They're only as small as your dick."

"…I'm a better kisser."

Natasha burst out laughing. "In your dreams, Clint. Like you could ever beat me."

Clint's eyes flashed with anger; without warning, he grabbed Bruce by his shirt and kissed him, arms enfolding the shocked and dazed man into a tight embrace. Natasha barked out a laugh and snatched Pepper, who gave a squeak against the female spy's lips as Natasha wound her hands through her strawberry-blonde hair.

Jane went pink; Darcy snapped quick pictures of both.

Clint pulled away first. "Switch," He panted, and grabbed Pepper, while Nat snatched Bruce by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Bruce whimpered.

"BARTON, YOU GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!" Tony rammed into the man, knocking him to the side. He pulled a flushed and stuttering Pepper away, holding her possessively. "You are neither worthy, nor do you have permission to touch the perfect woman. Now back off." He bit into a cupcake.

Clint threw his hands up into the air. "I thought Steve was the perfect person!"

"Steve is the perfect man," Tony said haughtily, "And Pepper is the perfect woman. And you are not worthy." He took another bite out of his cupcake. "Only reason I ever touched both of them is because they deigned to let my undeserving hands touch their perfect, perfect bodies."

"But I neeeeeed her!" Clint wailed. "I have to prove to Nat that I'm the better kisser!"

"Then find another person!" Tony said angrily.

"It's sad that this isn't even the weirdest thing that I've witnessed this week," Jane told Darcy.

Darcy scoffed. "It's not even the weirdest thing I've witnessed _today."_

"Excuse me," An annoyed voice made all of them turn; Loki stood there, his arms crossed as he tapped his foot. "Yes, judges of this contest? I've come to protest unfairness. I was unaware that seducing the judges was considered appropriate for this food judgment tournament. I find—mrrrrmphhh!"

Clint had snatched Loki by the shirt and smashed his lips against the astounded god.

"Wow, that's kind of hot," Darcy muttered.

"Not fair!" Nat yanked Clint away from the god, whose face was pink and whose lips were reddening and mildly swollen, and dragged the god towards her.

"Guys, guys, stop!" Steve had arrived, clearly flabbergast as he tugged Nat off of Loki, who fell flat on the ground looking somewhat star struck. "When is it ever okay to—to almost—_molest_ someone?" He scolded. "Even if it is Loki! And I thought you both hated the man!"

"And anyways, you were doing it wrong," Tony said huffily. "I could seduce Loki in three seconds flat."

"Prove it," The two assassins hissed, and Tony's eyes sparked. He dragged the stunned god to his feet, shoved him against a stall post, and proceeded to kiss him senseless.

"MAN OF IRON! UNHAND LOKI THIS INSTANT!" Thor flew out of nowhere, his face flushed with rage as he ripped Tony off of Loki, cradling the blubbering god to his chest and glaring daggers at Tony. "Loki is _mine,"_ He hissed.

"Yeah, yeah, we got it, big guy, but Loki! Which one of us was the best kisser?" Clint demanded.

"Exactly!" Natasha agreed, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Steve, honey, wait, I'm sorry!" Tony bawled, chasing after the sobbing super-soldier.

"I think I'm going to go," Bruce mumbled. "You know, somewhere else."

"Yeah, I think I left my oven on," Jane said vaguely.

Darcy mumbled, "And I have to… wash my cat."

"JARVIS needs a new suit," Pepper said awkwardly. They scattered.

"Well, Loki? Which of us was it?" Natasha asked impatiently.

Thor growled, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. People had begun to crowd the heroes, curious. "Take care what you say, my friends. I will not hesitate to strike down those that try to steal my Loki."

"Oh, yeah?" Natasha gave him a toothy smile, hefting a shield. "Remember this? It just so happens to be made of vibranium."

"Hey, that's my shield!" Steve yelped.

"And don't forget my arrows," Clint said casually, fingering his bow. "So, who is it, Loki?"

"Um—um—I, um—" Loki stammered. "Um—I—it, um—it was…?"

Steve stalked over, grabbed Loki, and kissed him, then stalked away to the astonishment of the entire crowd, yelling over his shoulder, "Now, that sure as hell doesn't make anything okay, now, does it, Tony?!"

"I'M SORRY!" Tony wailed, chasing after his husband. "STEEEEEEVE!"

"…Captain Rogers," Loki mumbled, curling up into a ball. "Please, don't kiss me again."

"… Fair enough," Natasha shrugged, and Clint nodded.

Thor turned to his brother, suddenly hurt. "More so than I, Loki?"

The god flushed, barely stammering out his reply before Thor's pop-tart booth exploded, sending flaming pop-tarts everywhere.

"… What did you put in those pop-tarts?" Natasha asked Thor. The god frowned as he lifted Mjolnir bringing rain clouds that thundered and stormed as rain put out the fire as well as soaked the shocked civilians, sending Loki into a nervous breakdown.

"I tried to cook them upon dear Jane's grill, but she told me I would need some fluid called kerosene to cook them on her grill, so I added some to each."

"…That explains so much," Clint muttered.

"LEAVE ME ALONE, TONY!"

"STEEEEEEVE! I'M SORRY ALREADY! PLEASE, WILL YOU JUST FORGIVE ME?!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—"

"Why don't we calm them down?" Clint suggested.

"Agreed," Thor said amicably, scooping a still-sobbing Loki into his arms. "Do you think I still have pop-tarts left?"

After public apologies had been made, Fury had shouted at the Avengers (and the Asgardians) for their irresponsible behavior yet again, Tony had coerced Steve into forgiving him, a traumatized Loki had been calmed down, and kissing contests had been banned, it was decided a new contest would be held in two weeks' time, this time with every available S.H.I.E.L.D. agent on hand to keep watch over the volatile superheroes.

But really. It was just another day for the Avengers.

* * *

**Soooo... review.**


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